


Chips

by nostalgia



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: But only a bit, Chips - Freeform, Dark, Gen, The Vault (Doctor Who), i'm a bit sorry, maybe stockholm syndrome idk, not nice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-13 18:36:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11765919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nostalgia/pseuds/nostalgia
Summary: Bill visits the vault alone. She brings chips.





	Chips

Bill flinched as she heard the vault doors slam shut behind her. She had never been down here on her own and the Doctor had warned her to be on her guard around Missy (“ _She's a lot better than she was but... well, you know._ ”). Bill's hands shook slightly and she tried to calm herself if only so she didn't drop the plate of chips she was carrying. 

Missy was sitting at her piano, her back to the doors, but she wasn't playing. “Is that you, Doctor?”

“Uh. No. It's me. It's Bill.”

Missy turned her head to look over her shoulder at her. “Bill.”

“Yeah, Bill. The Doctor asked me to visit you. So that you had some company. Um. I brought you chips.” She held the plate out towards Missy. It wasn't the most inspired peace-offering, perhaps, but it was all she had been able to think of.

Missy stood and turned, walked a few steps towards Bill. “Chips? You brought me chips?” There was something odd about the tone of her voice, but Bill couldn't place it.

She shrugged. “Yeah, I work in the kitchens. I make chips.”

Missy's gaze was fixed on the plate. “So... so those are my chips? I can eat the chips?”

Bill frowned. This was getting kind of weird. “Yeah,” she said.

Missy's eyes finally moved from the plate. She looked at Bill. “Could... um... can I eat one now?” She sounded nervous and uncertain.

“Of course you can, they're yours.”

Missy reached out and picked up a chip, hesitant as though it might be some sort of trap. She examined it for a moment and then sniffed it. “Salt and vinegar?”

“Yeah. Is that okay? Should I not have -”

“No, no, you should. I like salt and vinegar on chips.” She bit into the chip, chewed it slowly. 

Bill was about to make her excuses and leave when she noticed the wetness in Missy's eyes and the way she was blinking as though to hold back tears. It didn't make sense, and it made her worry that she had said or done something to upset her. “Are you... is there something wrong? Don't you like the chips?”

Missy shook her head vehemently. “No, they're good. They're good chips. Thank you, Bill. For the chips.”

“You're welcome.” 

Missy smiled but her eyes were still sad. “The Doctor brought me chips once. I think it was the 1970s. They were wrapped up in a newspaper, and we ate them over there, by the bookcase. They were nice. I forgot that chips are nice.”

Bill frowned. “You... Are you saying you haven't had chips since the 1970s?”

“No. No, I haven't.”

“Couldn't you just ask the Doctor to bring you more chips?” Maybe it was stating the obvious, but she barely knew Missy and maybe the Time Lady had somehow overlooked that option.

“No. I can't. I poisoned them. The Doctor's chips, I put poison on them. He didn't like that. It made him sick. He was angry. I... I don't want him to remember that he was angry. So... I can't ask for chips. But. I have chips now. You brought me chips.”

Bill sat the chips down on the nearest table and shivered. Missy was pretty messed-up, no wonder the Doctor had to keep her in here.

Missy spoke again. “What's the weather like? Outside. What's it like?”

“It rained a bit this morning, but now it's fine.”

“It rained? In the morning?”

“Yeah.”

Missy took another step towards Bill, a serious expression on her face. “You can't tell the Doctor that you told me that. You can't tell him that I asked. Do you promise that you won't tell him?”

If Missy asked her not to tell the Doctor something, didn't that mean that she probably _should_? But she found herself nodding. “I won't. I promise.”

Missy seemed pleased, relieved. “He doesn't let me ask about the weather. He says it'll just make me sad.”

Bill felt something flip in her stomach. “I''m sorry, I... I didn't know it would upset you. I'm sorry.”

“No, no, don't be sorry. I'm not upset. I'm happy. It rained in the morning, and I have chips.” Missy smiled, and this time it looked as though she meant it. “Do you like music, Bill? Do you like the piano?”

“Um. Yeah. I do.”

“Would you like me to play something for you? I can play the piano. I can play most things. I could play something that you like. Would you like that, Bill? Would you like it if I played you something on the piano?” Missy's hands moved restlessly, nervous fidgeting that just unnerved Bill even more.

She could – should, even – leave the vault and get back to the real world, but when she tried to think of excuses her mind went blank. So she said, “That would be nice, yeah.”

Missy walked back over to the piano, but she kept her attention on Bill. “What would you like me to play?”

Bill shrugged. “Anything, I don't mind.”

Missy nodded. “Okay. There's a chair over there. It's where the Doctor sits when I play the piano for him. I think it's a good seat. It looks quite comfortable. He likes you. He talks about you sometimes and he likes you. He'd probably let you sit in his chair.”

By now the sense of _wrongness_ was impossible to ignore. Bill wanted to turn and run and get as far away from Missy as she possibly could. The Doctor as well, she didn't really want to be near either of them right now.

But she sat in the Doctor's chair and listened as Missy played for her. She didn't recognise the tune – it was something classical, from the sound of it, and she'd never been into that kind of music. She sat still, unmoving, thinking up excuses to leave and just get the hell out of here.

When the music stopped Missy looked at her over her shoulder. “Did you like that? The music?”

“It was nice. You play really well.”

“Thank you.”

Bill chose from her list of plausible excuses and stood. “I have to go now, Missy. I have to meet a friend.”

Missy got up from the piano stool and stood facing her. “A friend,” she said, and Bill couldn't tell if she was buying the explanation or not.

“Yeah.”

“Before you go, Bill. Could... could I ask you something? I don't know anyone. There isn't anyone I can ask.” The nervous hands were back. 

Bill glanced at the vault doors before looking back at Missy. “Okay.”

“He kissed me, Bill. The Doctor kissed me. And it was nice. I liked it. I don't remember when it happened, it was a while ago. He says that he's not allowed to kiss me. That's one of the rules. So. But. I don't why he did that. I don't know why he kissed me. Do you know? Do you know why he kissed me?” She seemed genuinely confused and more than a little worried.

Bill shook her head, half as a reply and half because she didn't want to have to listen to another word of this. She started walking backwards towards the doors. “I'm sorry, Missy, I have to -”

Missy nodded and shrugged like it wasn't important. “Okay.”

“Goodbye, Missy.” She had reached the doors, all she had to do now was enter the codes and leave.

“Goodbye, Bill. Thank you for the chips. And the weather.”

Bill got the numbers wrong on her first go, too hasty and too desperate to leave. 

She heard Missy speak. “You can come back to see me if you'd like. We could talk. About things. I won't hurt you, I promise I won't. I don't hurt people any more. I'm good now. The Doctor made me good.”

The lights on the door flashed the right colour and Bill stepped through the doors as soon as they were opened enough for her to fit through the gap. She didn't look back.


End file.
